


Secret

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, Dwarf Culture, M/M, Sibling Incest, Taboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew that what they were doing was wrong, but that didn't stop them.</p><p>But Fíli is the possessive type, and they must deal with the consequences when he sees someone's hands on his little brother</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the may beautiful drawings done by the wonderful [Kaciart](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/)

What he was doing was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

But that didn’t stop him.

How could he stop, he had his beautiful baby brother undulating and mewling beneath him in the most delectable manner. 

He was the heir of Erebor, and his brother would be the prince. In a perfect world, there wouldn’t be such a taboo, and Kíli would become his prince consort.

But the world was far from perfect.

Which is why they had to wait, and wait, and wait, until the perfect opportunity arose.

Thorin was wandering through the villages of men, searching for work. They wouldn’t hear from him often, but when the did, the letter were very brief. There was always some amount of funds sent with the letter, and it was due to those that they were able to live as close to comfortable as they currently were.

‘Amad had taken up work as a seamstress in a nearby village. 

It wasn’t her trade of choice, and by dwarven standards, her work was barely passable.

But it was enough for the men.

The village was far enough away that she wasn’t always able to come home.

It was the nights that she didn’t that they were so very grateful for.

They loved their mother, and their uncle too - but there was only so much they could muffle their moans and grunts. 

Their house wasn’t large. There were three private rooms, and one main room.

That was it.

And Thorin’s was rarely used.

The walls were thin. The outer walls were of stone, but the inner walls were of an inexpensive wood.

‘Amad would always leave in the morning, and would be back by sunset if she returned at all that night. They didn’t have to worry for her, if she wasn’t at her own home, she was with Dwalin.

They would wait an hour after sunset, on the off chance that there had been a quick delay, and then as soon as that hour had passed, Kíli was on him within seconds.

One moment they would be staring at eachother, gazes heavy with anticipation. And the next, Fíli would have a lap full of half naked dwarf.

He still hadn’t figured out how Kíli managed to do that every single time.

They would be fully dressed, and then they weren’t.

There would always be a trail of clothing marking the short path from the chairs in front of the hearth to their shared room. They had pushed their beds together long ago, and neither Thorin nor ‘Amad had said anything.

Be it that they didn’t notice or didn’t care, or if it was their version of quiet acceptance, they didn’t know. And they didn’t exactly care enough to take the risk and find out.

There was no doubt in either of their minds that the moment they were found out they would be kicked out of their cottage and sent out on the street with nothing on their backs except the little clothing they were wearing at the time.

Maybe that’s why neither he or Kíli ever fully stripped.

Maybe it was the preservation instinct that Thorin so often listed down as something most dwarrows needed more of.

They had seen each other naked, but never in such intimate circumstances. It was always while bathing, maybe even once or twice while changing.

But they were always so very, very careful.

Until they weren’t.

It was the first patrol they had been assigned together. They had gone with the rest of the guard to the pub in the village center. 

They’d gone before, but it was always with either Thorin or Dwalin, and they always stopped them from doing anything too over the top. It also helped that their presence alone commanded a certain amount of respect.

But this time, this time they were alone.

They were surrounded by strangers who wished for nothing more than to see if it was the true that the Line of Durin had as deep pockets as the legends said.

The legends might have been true long ago, when they still ruled Erebor, but most definitely no longer. It was true that they weren’t barely scraping by, but they were far from wealthy.

Kíli had always been the more boisterous of the two.

He was also referred to as the pretty one, especially by the men.

It just happened that the pub they were at had just as many men as dwarves, if not more.

They were too lost in each other and in their drink to pay much attention to the world around them.

Mistake 1.

One of the dwarves that had been on the patrol with them, thick dark hair, and eyes that almost appeared blue in certain light. He looked enough like the young princes that when he said he was the boys’ father, no one questioned him.

The dwarf had an inclination towards gambling.

As time went on, the dwarf kept playing and playing, and Fíli and Kíli kept drinking and drinking.

The dwarf had nothing more to bet, so, as their father, he bet the boys.

Not that they were aware of such an occurrence.

Fíli was an affectionate drunk, and Kíli was a clingy drunk. They made quite a pair. 

When a shorter, heavily muscled man with dark, longer hair came over and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, their alcohol riddled brains recognized him as none other than their Uncle Thorin.

When such a name escaped the lads’ lips, those who did not know who they were shared a look. Those were the princes, and while they may not have their mountain, never let it be said that dwarves do not have their honor.

When the man dragged to two boys with him down to street to a nearby inn, a couple of the dwarves chose to follow.

While those dwarves saved their lives and their dignity through their actions, they also overheard choice thing that could have almost been put off as drunken rambles.

Almost.

You see, Fíli was the possessive type. Kíli knew this and he used it to his advantage. 

Usually, the only time this came across in the heir’s actions was in the bedroom. However, along with making him overly affectionate, the ale also lessened the blonde dwarve’s inhibitions. And that meant that his possessiveness was that much closer to the surface, and that much easier to ignite.

So really, no one could be blamed when one moment they heard drunken giggles, and the next they heard what could only be described as a shout of berserker rage. The dwarves who had been following them rushed over as soon as they heard it.

Instead of the innocent, young dwarves being at the mercy of the older, sadistic men that they expected, they found three men lying dead on the ground, and a blonde dwarf positively ravishing his younger brother.

And the noises that were slowly growing in volume could not be mistaken as anything but those of pleasure.

It was those dwarves that had waited uncomfortably until the brothers were sated, and it was them who brought them home. When Dís returned the following morning, it was those dwarves who had explained the situation to her.

In it’s entirety.

It was those dwarves who had to witness as the dwarrowdam who was once the regal princess under the mountain, was reduced to tears as the reality of the situation dawned on her.

By dwarven law, those who hindered the growth of their race by finding and indulging in their one who was of the same gender, was to be thrown out and forced to the settlements where such things were accepted.

Those were the laws of Erebor, while in exile, no such settlements existed.

The settlements were a happy, comfortable place - located at the foot of the mountain, just outside of Dale. During such prosperous times, it had hardly mattered. They were kept separate as a way of following tradition, nothing more.

But in exile, the youth were to be cherished.

Her sons could still be classified as youth, but the moment that Mahal gave them their one in the form of their own brother, they were branded.

Before, no one knew, it was fine.

A secret.

But now, in a village as small as the one they were in, news spread fast.

The three dwarves standing in front of Dís now weren’t the only ones to hear and witness the spectacle the brothers had made.

The secret was out, and the consequences must be gone through with.

And that was the last anyone ever saw of the two brothers.

Walking, arm in arm, with nothing more than their clothing, slowly but surely leaving the village, the mountains, for good.

They were heading East, they shouted back, as they faded from sight.

Never again were they seen by those dwarves, for the two had ended up where else than behind a round green door taken in by none other than a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins.

**Author's Note:**

> *’Amad - mother


End file.
